The Tangmere

Logbook

Magazine of the Tangmere Military Aviation Museum

Autumn 2015

Jet-to-Jet Air Combat in Korea Robin Olds at Tangmere • Escape across Germany Tangmere Military Aviation Museum Trust Company Limited

Patron: The Duke of Richmond and Gordon Hon. President: Air Marshal Sir Dusty Miller, KBE Hon. Life Vice-President: Alan Bower Hon. Life Vice-President: Duncan Simpson, OBE

Council of Trustees Chairman: Group Captain David Baron, OBE David Burleigh, MBE Reginald Byron David Coxon Dudley Hooley Peter Lee Ken Shepherd Bill Walker Joyce Warren

Officers of the Company Hon. Treasurer: Ken Shepherd Hon. Secretary: Joyce Warren

Management Team Director: Dudley Hooley Curator: David Coxon General Manager: Peter Lee Engineering Manager: Reg Lambird Events Manager: David Burleigh, MBE Publicity Manager: Cherry Greveson Staffing Manager: Len Outridge Treasurer: Ken Shepherd

Shop Manager: Sheila Shepherd

Registered in England and Wales as a Charity Charity Commission Registration Number 299327

Registered Office: Tangmere, near Chichester, West Sussex PO20 2ES, England Telephone: 01243 790090 Fax: 01243 789490 Website: www.tangmere-museum.org.uk E-mail: [email protected]

2 The Tangmere Logbook The Tangmere Logbook Magazine of the Tangmere Military Aviation Museum

Autumn 2015

Getting Used to It 4 And trying to keep up with the other chaps Robin Olds

Making Tracks 12 Part Three of an account of my escape from captivity James Atterby McCairns

MiG Alley 23 Jet fighters meet in combat for the first time Matt Wright

Letters, Notes, and Queries 28 Korea: the RAF’s presence; answer to our last Photo Quiz; and a new brain teaser

Published by the Society of Friends of the Tangmere Military Aviation Museum, Tangmere, near Chichester, West Sussex PO20 2ES, England Edited by Dr Reginald Byron, who may be contacted care of the Museum at the postal address given above, or by e-mail at [email protected] Copyright © 2015 by the Tangmere Military Aviation Museum Trust Company All rights reserved. ISSN 1756-0039

Getting Used to It

Robin Olds

The next morning I sat at breakfast with decidedly more confidence. Several members of the mess actually said a cheery good morning. This offset a noticeable rattling of newspapers in other quarters, a sound oddly conveying irritation. It made me remem- ber those occasions during the war when I would settle into a seat in a first-class car- riage on the Ipswich-London 8.10 train. All of us were aware of the Englishmen’s opin- ion of Yanks. They looked upon us as very young, and very American. We were regu- larly described as oversexed, overpaid, and, worst of all, over there. Nothing personal was meant by this at Tangmere, but the hunching of the shoulders, the slight turn to- ward the window and, most of all, the rattle, clearly conveyed a message: “Don’t crowd me, don’t intrude on my morning routine, don’t be rude by trying to speak to me.” The reaction was one anybody feels when a stranger hogs the armrest at the movies or starts talking to him at a lunch counter, but there is something unique about the way an Eng- lishman rattles his paper, especially when he feels put-upon. The action is totally elo- quent and the message is clear. Breakfast and the weather matched each other, equally depressing. I hoped the CO was right, that I would get used to it. He meant the weather and I meant both. I real- ised I was thinking selfishly, so I turned my mind to other matters.

4 The Tangmere Logbook After the previous day’s flight the afternoon had been relatively busy and produc- tive. Over in the Orderly Room, I had met the squadron adjutant, who turned out to be the New Zealander, Flight Lieutenant H. W. B. Patterson. He had duly “posted” me in, as it was called. I was then invited to sit at a table on which were lying what looked to be four large photograph albums. These were numbered and carried the squadron in- signia and motto, “In omnibus princeps” (First in all things). Opening the first volume, I realised I was looking at the handwritten history of the unit. Patterson explained it was the adjutant’s responsibility to enter events as they occurred and photos when they were available. To tell the truth, I felt as though I were back in high school and our English teacher “Skinny” Lewis had just announced we were going to read Chaucer. I thought how my own air force unit histories were dry statistics and about as exciting and readable as le- gal notices. To my knowledge, no one outside some obscure person in the Air Univer- sity had ever even glanced at one, but these RAF volumes turned out to be marvellous. I saw how the squadron came into being in the second half of the 1800s as an obser- vation balloon company. Proud men stood stiffly at attention next to their horse-drawn equipment. Pictures showed them going aloft in baskets, looking for all the world like those used later in World War I. But these fellows wore swords with cross-belts, epau- lettes, high collars, and shakos with chin straps. The penned entries told of daily events, of mishaps, of postings in and out. A record existed here of every man who had ever been in No. 1 Squadron. Not for the first time, I thought how wonderfully different was the British sense of history. I had always thought it unfortunate that our own American squadrons didn’t have the same regard for their heritage. Going on to the second volume, I found myself deep in the agony of the First World War. The book told of missions flown, of men lost, and of their aircraft. A scrap of doped linen with a bullet hole gave testament to the end of a German opponent. There were old photos with young faces, grim and fat alistic. It made me recall my dad and his friends talking of those times and how a new pilot had a life expectancy of something like six hours on operations. Two hours passed quickly and I hadn’t finished the third book. Leaving the squadron busily active in the Middle East in the late 1920s, I knew I would be back. Now I realised what the CO had meant by “bumph.” It meant history, pride, and tradition; something to know and to feel; a basis for my own devotion to duty within the squadron. Clothing supply turned into a bit of a problem. Only one flight suit came close to fit- ting. The corporal in charge kept shaking his head and muttering about overfed and oversized Yanks. Proper gloves and a l eather helmet were easier. Then it was time for tea. Somewhat reluctantly, I went over to the mess. Tea was for ladies, or so I thought. But I knew it would be rude if I didn’t go. Besides, if I stayed away, I’d be the only one wandering about the base at that time of day. It turned out to be a wonderfully pleasant occasion. The tea was excellent and it was hot. With it we were served a slice of toast and a pat of real butter. That pat was each man’s ration for the week. Luckily, I had hit the right day. Jars of peanut butter were within reach. Though it looked plentiful, I watched the others to see how they handled things. Keith Pearch sat across from me. His butter-spreading technique was masterful. I had to ad- mire how he managed to get it evenly over the entire area of that piece of toast. Then came the peanut butter. This, too, was spread with concentration and deliberation. The

Autumn 2015 5 reality of controlled rationing hit home. I gained a deeper respect for the men around me, and thought how they and their countrymen had been on strict rations since the start of the war. A sense of guilt at my own country’s bountiful plenty struck hard. I pulled my knife away from the peanut butter with the determination to learn just a little more before helping myself. Keith took a small bite, chewed slowly, had a sip of tea, and looked at me with his dark, brooding eyes. “Have a nice flight, Major?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. “Good kite, the old Meteor.” There, I thought, that bit of under- statement ought to go over well. Keith didn’t stare, but I could tell he was reflecting on my answer. I thought it would be best to pull back from any further show of false bravado and added, “But I confess extreme happiness at seeing the runway once again.” This brought a smile and a knowing nod. I had said the right thing. People seemed to disappear after tea, so I went into the lounge and found a comfort- able-looking armchair at the far end of the room. I didn’t opt to settle too near the tempting fireplace for fear of taking someone’s favourite seat. This, too, seemed a good decision. As the room filled, I couldn’t tell if time on station or military rank deter- mined nearness to the fire, but there was definitely an order of precedence. I found a magazine. It wasn’t too old, about six months, and I tried to immerse myself in the so- cial happenings in Cornwall and Middlesex. The room offered the first real warmth I had enjoyed for some time and I’m afraid I dozed. I awoke as the men were leaving. They moved as though they had a fixed destination, and I followed not knowing what else to do. Lo and behold! Here was the bar! Pints of mild and bitter ale were had all around. Glasses clinked and voices echoed a chorus of salutations, the most frequent of which seemed to be the old standby, “Cheers!” Squadron Leader Tommy Burne was holding forth at the centre of the bar, pint in hand and moustache aquiver. He beckoned me over and made introductions with “And this is our new Yank.” That certainly let me know my arrival had been the subject of some discussion. I accepted the proffered half-pint of “half and half” (normally pro- nounced “arf an’ arf”) and began to feel less a stranger among these RAF men. It was apparent that two half-pints were the norm and no one drank hard liquor. As people started to drift off, Tommy turned to me and said, “A few of the lads are buzzing off to the old Unicorn for a bite to eat. Care to join us, Major? I don’t suppose you have a motor car as yet, so you might as well come along with me. Meet you out front in about twenty.” I wasn’t aware of having been given a choice in the matter, but accepted eagerly, then looked for a clue as to whether or not we went as is, or changed into civvies. Civ- vies turned out to be the right decision. Sam Osborne met me at the front door of the mess. His baggy trousers, tweed jacket, old sweater, and RAF tie pronounced the height of casualness, so I quickly went back to my room and changed, then joined Sam out front. Up drove Tommy in a pre-war MG, which looked as though it had fought valiantly on the beaches at Dieppe. By any American standard, the thing was tiny. The torn and patched top sagged at the passenger side, and the hood (bonnet) was held down by a large leather strap. I was wondering how in the world the three of us were going to fit when Tommy said, “Righto, Osborne, hop in the back.”

6 The Tangmere Logbook Obviously, Sammy had done this before, and I watched in amazement as he wormed his way into a narrow space and sat cross-wise on what seemed to be a loose assortment of tools. I then scrunched down as much as I could and tried to slip backward into the left front seat. It didn’t work. I turned and entered the other way, having to put my head practically across Tommy, turn, pull my legs in, turn again, put my feet as far up under the dash as I could, then sit with my knees drawn up near my chest and practi- cally under my chin. I hoped the Unicorn was not too far. Off we went with just a small lurch as Tommy hefted himself around, accommodat- ing his game leg. As it was still pouring rain, I was beginning to wonder when he would start using the wipers when he reached up in front of the wheel and manually flipped a small handle back and forth. This very nicely worked the one and only wiper blade. After a bit, we reached an impressive speed on a very narrow and winding road. Moments of discomfort came when Tommy passed other cars as though he knew no one would dare appear around the next corner. Since he passed absolutely everything, my moments of discomfort turned into sheer and continuous terror. It was a huge relief to enter the town of Chichester and finally arrive in front of a two-story structure with a sign proclaiming it to be the Unicorn. Putting aside all thoughts of the return trip, I un- folded myself, stretched my cramped legs as unobtrusively as possible, and entered the “Old Uni” behind my two new friends. It turned out the old pub had been a favourite hang-out for the Battle of Britain pilots flying out of Sussex. The walls of the upstairs bar held photographs and marvellous drawings of young faces with dates and names. These men were already legends when I entered the war in 1944. I saw Sailor Malan, Cocky Dundas, Douglas Bader, Ginger Lacey, Stanford Tuck, and others, all heroes to me as a young cadet back in 1940. I had to admit, I still held them in awe. Another half-pint, then a quick visit to the WC, and we settled down to a relatively excellent meal. I say “relatively,” thinking of the two breakfasts I had experienced in the mess. I can’t say the choice in the Unicorn was large. The menu offered a variety of lamb and mutton, a meat pie (contents unspecified), soup, and a dessert called “trifle” or something like that. I opted for the lamb and was glad I had done so. The mint sauce was tasty and the potatoes were filling. I don’t know what the greens were and knew it didn’t matter. Tommy and Sammy ate with appreciation. I had been given another subtle lesson. Things were still grim in jolly old England, but one absolutely did not speak of it, or even notice. The evening was enjoyable and went quickly. Tomorrow would be another flying day and we did not tarry. The ride home was somewhat less terrifying, and I thought to myself how right Tommy was. Not only would I get used to the weather, I would get used to many things. I looked forward to them all. A final and most blessed sign of my acceptance greeted me as I entered my room back in the quarters. A small coal fire glowed on the grate and the place was actually comfortable. Grateful for the thoughtfulness of the communal batman, I slept in peace- ful warmth. The next morning, Flying Officer Pearch and I walked over to squadron ops after breakfast. It was still gloomy and misting, but I saw the clouds had lifted somewhat. The ceiling seemed to be about 200 feet this morning and the visibility was a good mile. There were about 350 questions I wanted to ask Keith about instrument procedures here

Autumn 2015 7 at Tangmere and in the UK in general. Somehow or other, it didn’t seem the time for that. Keith was musing about generalities. I knew he was avoiding discussing the very normal questions any pilot would be asking. There must have been a reason, so I hunched my shoulders and trod on. Chief Frazier was busy filling out some forms when we arrived. I guessed it to be the aircraft line-up for the morning. Flight Lieutenant Sam Osborne was at a small table scribbling something with a pen in a large logbook. The CO arrived, threw his RAF trench coat on a peg, and stumped over to the logbook. He glanced over Sammy’s shoulder, pointed, mumbled something, and beckoned to me. Well, I thought, perhaps now I’ll get to hear a flight brief for a training mission under these weather conditions. Not to be. Tommy pointed to the logbook and explained, “Here we have the day’s line-up, old chap. Fellow just has to have a peek to know what’s up.” I peeked. There, quite plainly, was a flight of five with aircraft identifying letters, a take-off time, and pilot names. My name was opposite number Five. Number Five? I thought. Then I saw the word “Cinegun” under the column la- belled “Mission.” Cinegun? What in hell is that? I asked myself. Tommy explained. “Command’s laid on a Lanc. Be at twenty-two. Mock attacks for the lads, with film, y’know. Taxi out in twenty.” Oh, OK. Sure, I thought to myself. I watched the other pilots as I struggled into my flight suit. All took leather helmets and gloves and a Mae West, some took a neck scarf, and each went over to another small table and picked up a 16 mm film pack, just like those we’d used in our P-51s some time ago. I picked up mine, scribbled my name and flight number on it, and fol- lowed the flight members out to the tarmac. Not one word had been said about formation, radio frequencies, join-up, climb-out headings, attack parameters, fuel minimums, recovery procedures, emergency proce- dures, alternate bases, weather forecasts, or anything like that. Well, the CO had said, “All in good time,” but I couldn’t help thinking this time was as good as any. I climbed in my assigned bird (KITE, damn it!), and a ground crewman helped me strap in. The gun camera was right in front of my face, so it was easy to load the film. Since I didn’t know if the guns were loaded and armed, it was a bit of a panic to figure out the armament switches so I made sure I learned how to pull the trigger and squirt film instead of 20 mm shells. That done and the radio on, I turned and watched the CO. He soon waggled a finger over his head, and I almost gave a nervous giggle, thinking of The Dawn Patrol. The start procedure went easily and the CO taxied forward. Each of the others followed in order and I fell in behind like the smallest duckling. As we taxied out to the active runway, I made a momentous decision. Number Four was going to have a Siamese twin. I would shadow him like glue. He was going to be my support to home plate. If he landed safely, so would I. If he goofed and ran us into the English Channel, I’d splash right behind him. The flight lined up two and two on the runway. There was no room for me beside either Three or Four. OK, so be it. I stuck the nose of my Meteor right between the two of them 20 feet aft and held the brakes. Flight Lead called Flying Control and was cleared for take-off. With a great spray of water kicked up by their twin exhausts, Lead and Two accelerated away. Three and

8 The Tangmere Logbook Four ran up their engines and, covered with blinding water, so did I. When I saw them move I let go the brakes and stayed not 30 feet behind. Aside from the water, and the fact that I could barely see the two aircraft so close ahead, it was really not too difficult. Three, with Four close on his right wing, cleared the ground. I kept my bird rolling for just a fraction longer in order to have room to slide over beneath Four. As his gear and flaps retracted, so did mine. But my timing was not that good. Before I could get close enough in trail, Four disappeared into the soup. There went my ticket home. This was the moment of truth, as they say. If I lost him, I hadn’t a clue how to get back on the ground in one piece. I knew this with certainty. What the hell, press on! Since my last perception of him was a good steady closure with a safe vertical clearance, I held what I had. After what seemed an eternity, but in reality was only a few seconds, Four loomed ahead of me and slightly above. His misty image in the thick cloud was one of the prettiest things I had ever seen. It was a great relief to move right up underneath his tail and just below his tailpipes. We climbed quickly. As the clouds grew brighter I could see that Three had latched onto the lead aircraft’s right wing. I wondered if he had used the same closure tech- nique as I had. Damn, I sure had a lot to learn. These lads could teach me a thing or two about formation instrument flying. We burst out of the clouds and into a bright blue sky. The CO, who had been work- ing the radio for some time and obeying ground control instructions, now made a turn to the north. Gaining more height and following the calm voice coming from some ra- dar centre far below, he soon called out a tally-ho on the Lancaster bomber, which was our cinegun target. It was on a reciprocal heading, 1,000 feet below us, about 3 miles out and at our ten o’clock position. Even tucked under number Four, I could see we had been vectored into perfect position for our mock attack. Chalk up one for the pros, I thought as the CO reminded us to check proper switch positions and follow him down and to the left for a high-side attack. Two, Three, and Four took interval as they followed the CO down the chute. Not Five. By God, Four was my ticket home, and I wasn’t going to let him get more than 50 yards away from me. So it went. The rest of the flight made half a dozen or more practice attacks, keeping an interval allowing each to close and fire off film as though he were actually attacking. Somewhere in this aerial ballet, the CO called, “I say, number Five, move it out a bit, old boy.” I pretended complete language barrier syndrome and possible radio failure and kept sticking close to Four. Eventually the CO waggled his wings, signalling join-up, and started a shallow left turn, allowing the rest of the flight to cut the corner and move into close formation. This was no concern of mine. I was already as close to Four as I could get. Now comes the fun part, I thought. Let’s see how we get home. At his signal, we changed radio frequencies with the CO. “Tangmere Control,” he called, “Red Flight requesting a steer and a QGH.” “Right you are, Red Flight, pick up a heading of 150 and descend to angels 20. Oranges are sour but vis has picked up a bit. Should be no bother.” I was delighted to hear that bit of news. Tommy responded with, “Tangmere, Red Leader here. Heading 150, letting down through 24 to angels 20. Airspeed 350 slowing. Three and Four are on my right wing.”

Autumn 2015 9 (Hey, what about Five?) “Red Leader, turn left 145, level at angels 20.” “Roger, Tangmere Control. Steady at 145, airspeed 250, and levelling at angels 20.” Obviously, Control was taking a fix on the CO’s transmissions and was vectoring us toward home plate. We stayed at angels 20. A few more transmissions and responses and Tangmere announced, “Red Leader, you’re overhead. Turn right to a heading of 240. Hold angels 20 and 200 airspeed.” A moment or two, then, “Red Leader, start your descent. Heading 240, airspeed 200.” I reduced throttles when Four did and held my position under his tail. Down we went and soon entered the soup. All the while, Tangmere Control verified our headings and the CO responded with altitude, heading, and airspeed. When we reached 10,000 feet, Tangmere Control ordered a descending left turn to a heading of 005, to descend to and maintain an altitude of 3,000 feet. So far so good; I could tell what was going on, and holding my position on Four was easy. I didn’t have to glance at the instrument panel to feel us level off. Throttles were not advanced and I knew we were bleeding the airspeed down to a point below 200. A few minor heading corrections after verifying altitude and speed and Control turned us over to GCA. A new voice came on the air. “Red Three and Four turn right 095. Descend to one thousand five and maintain.” Red Three banked smoothly right to the new heading and let down. We were still in the soup. Thirty seconds later GCA ordered Red Lead and his wingman to turn to the same heading and to maintain the same altitude. We were now two elements on parallel courses on the downwind leg of our GCA pattern. Soon the controller turned Red Lead left to a heading of 005. Seconds later the three of us in the second element were turned to the same heading. The turn onto the final approach heading was accomplished in the same fashion. This put the Lead element directly ahead of the three of us with about a 2-mile separation. A new voice came on the air. “Red Lead, Final Controller here. How do you read?” “Loud and clear, Control.” “Righto, Lead. Gear should be down. You are approaching the glide path. Turn right 278 and begin descent.” The rest was routine. Control efficiently and smoothly brought all of us down the chute. For me, it was a breeze. When Four’s gear started down, so did mine. Same with the flaps. We broke out of the clouds at about 300 feet. I could see the end of the runway dead ahead under Four’s belly. I pulled back on my throttles and concentrated on landing in the first few feet so that Red Four would touch down well ahead of me. It worked and we all rolled down the runway together, slowing to taxi speed before turning off onto the perimeter track. As we walked into ops, the CO turned to me and grinned. “Good show, Yank.” What greater praise could a man want? I grinned back. My entire year with No. 1 Squadron in England was a dream. Many adventures were had and new friends were made. Much time was spent in various pubs and roam- ing the countryside in my own little MG. Visits were made to theatres in London. It was a pleasure to wander on the streets at night under brightly lit street lamps and to

10 The Tangmere Logbook see the graceful old city rebuilding itself. How different this experience was from a mere four years earlier! Over several decades after this great assignment, No. 1 Squad- ron mates continued to keep in touch, and we visited each other often. Although Ella had film projects often taking her back to California, we managed to rent a wonderful old, draughty stone house near the base, which we enjoyed immensely during her visits. The plumbing never worked correctly and the peat fires we set in the fireplace often smoked up the whole house, but bottles of ale, dinners at the pub, and all the good men of the RAF made this a magical year. Had I known what lay ahead, I would have enjoyed it even more.

Major Robin Olds (back to camera), by now CO of No. 1 Squadron, presents the squadron to AVM Stanley Vincent (formerly “A” Flight commander, 1 Squadron, Tangmere 1928-31) while the station commander, Wing Commander George Parnaby, looks on. AOC’s Annual Inspection, Tangmere, 5 May 1949.

We thank Christina Olds, Robin Olds’s daughter and editor of his posthumously published auto- biography, for her kind permission to print this edited extract from Chapter 12 of Fighter Pilot: The Memoirs of Legendary Ace Robin Olds by Robin Olds with Christina Olds and Ed Rasimus (New York: St Martin’s Griffin, 2010), ISBN 978-0-312-56951-8. — Ed.

Autumn 2015 11

The main railway station at Kassel as Mac McCairns might have seen it, before it was damaged by bombing in August 1942. The train for Koblenz departed from Platform 5, in the distance to the right. Opposite Platform 5, to the left, is the way to the town (“Zur Stadt”).

Making Tracks Part Three of an Autobiographical Memoir

James Atterby McCairns

After all these various alarms the rest of the journey to Kassel seemed comparatively uneventful. We passed through Gotha and several other stations reminiscent of my first escape; occasionally our travelling companions changed but on the whole the compart- ment remained full and always our two civilians were with us. Eventually I became quite afraid of the one who was sitting on my side. However, I persevered in my pose of apathy and after about four hours of this I was suitably rewarded by the approach of Kassel. Keeping well in the crowd, the barrier with its uniformed officials was negoti- ated without any trouble at all and, with Lucien to the fore, off we rushed to study the timetable to Koblenz. It was definitely our lucky day. We had just completed a trip of 200 km in under 4 hours and there, within one hour’s time, was another train at 3 pm which promised to take us another 200 km before it was really late. One hour to waste so over to the ticket window, down with 15 RM and with a more confident tone, the magical phrase “Schnell zug — Koblenz”. The tickets and the small change came back immediately and light in heart I set forth to view Kassel.

12 The Tangmere Logbook On the whole the train had been stand although on many other plat- quite warm and there was a certain forms similar notice boards gave evi- amount of lively chatter going on. But dence of the very late arrival of various here in Kassel, although the sun was trains. There was absolutely no sign of shining in the blue sky overhead, every- Lucien so I prepared myself to wait. In thing seemed cold and drab. The peo- front facing me were the rows of plat- ple, mainly women, walked round in forms, behind were several rooms, almost a dazed manner, paying very some obviously buffets with steaming little attention to either the other pass- coffee and a food like fried cakes. The ers-by or the shops. Not that there was warmth attracted me although as yet much to see: the food shops contained thanks to my early meal, I was not suf- only bread or polony sausage whilst the fering from hunger. Here it was very tailors only sported a few pathetic suits difficult to keep up a position; people which were not priced but bore the kept coming near and I thought would coupon requirements only. It was in- make an effort at conversation so I con- deed a drab, dismal scene. tinued to prowl round, never remaining Lucien was walking about 200 yards in one place for more than five minutes. before me when suddenly he stopped Lucien was still out of sight but once as and started shop-gazing. This was I moved along the platform I nearly against all regulations. We had been knocked over another civilian who to warned against looking at these empty my utter amazement proved to be one shops; it attracted unwanted attention of the other two escaping Belgians. For- because nowadays the Germans didn’t tunately by this time my nerves were a do it! As I drew near I saw it was a phi- little better and I managed to regain my latelist’s shop and I too looked in and composure swiftly enough to walk on heard Lucien’s whispered message. He without any sign of recognition. Never- wanted me to take the lead. We would theless I felt a glow of satisfaction that split forces and unite at the station be- others too were on the trail and I was fore train time. His last injunction was not alone in my dire plight. “Don’t look at shops!” After about half an hour there was a Off I went and at the end of 10 min- sudden rush to one end of the space utes Lucien was no longer to be seen so and in the twinkling of an eye a huge I continued walking round the town, queue had formed. I cautiously ap- quite unimpressed and rather disap- proached but found it was nothing pointed because there were so few ob- more or less than the issue of rationed vious signs of bomb damage. Just be- cigarettes, three a day I believe. Disap- fore train time I went back to the sta- pointed I returned to my vigil of Plat- tion, thoroughly chilled and eagerly form 5. After an eternity of waiting looking forward to the warmth of the which was probably well over one train. hour, more excitement and this time a This time I found one must wait in a queue formed at the platform barriers. covered shelter, rather like a miniature I thought this must be our train but King’s Cross with various platforms how was I to know. Just at that mo- forming dead ends directly in front. I ment the answer to my prayer arrived checked the platform number I required for Lucien suddenly emerged from no- but the gate leading onto it was closed where and calmly joined the queue. and no train was drawn up on the other After a suitable gap I too followed suit side. There was a blackboard by one and soon we were safely past the ticket side of the gate with various inscrip- barrier and well separated, and I tions in German which I did not under- searched eagerly for room in the over-

Autumn 2015 13 crowded train. remarks. With a terrific effort I sum- Not a seat was available so I had just moned all my ebbing courage and time to scramble into a corridor before managed to produce a very meek and the train pulled out just over one hour mild “Ich weiß nicht” in my best Eng- late. Like the compartments the corri- lish accent and accompanied with an dor was packed to capacity and soon I almost imperceptible shrug and a look began to feel very uncomfortable for of resignation. That has done it, I practically all my companions were thought. Now for her investigation. very young, jovial chaps of the Luft- But no, I was wrong for without further waffe, complete with all their packs and ado she turned on her heel and went off in a very merry frame of mood. We up the corridor in the opposite direction were packed like sardines in a tin and leaving me in a very collapsed state. To as they kept stumbling over my feet in what I owed my salvation I never passing they would smile and politely knew. Whether her needs were most utter “Danke schön ” to which I replied pressing and time could not be consid- with a rather sickly smile and resumed ered or whether she simply thought it my moody staring out of the long win- beneath her dignity to continue a con- dows. So time went by; most of the versation with a nondescript little for- chaps appeared to sort out comrades eigner I don’t know. The fact remained and chatter was lively on all sides, one that she went off. or two casting quizzical glances at me For the next hour peace reigned in and I wondered how long my thinly the carriage and just towards dusk we disguised RAF blue would go unno- pulled up at Gießen. Fortunately for ticed. However, all went well. me I was in the corridor and able to By various means which I did not observe all. appreciate, I was pushed round the cor- Immediately we stopped there was a ridor until I found myself outside the good deal of hollering outside on the lavatory door. I was standing there platform, all of which was complete with my back to the door when sud- Greek to me and a good many passen- denly I spied, making a tedious way gers seemed to be dashing about. Then along the packed corridor, the most my eyes caught a notice board with two beautiful girl, a German brunette, at- finger pointers — one pointing to this tractively dressed in the brown uniform train said Frankfurt, the other pointing of the Hitler Youth and proudly wear- to a train on the opposite platform said ing her swastika armband. Down the Koblenz. This was completely unex- corridor she came, nearer and nearer pected. I had no notice of this change she approached, right up to poor me and frantically my eyes sought for the who was dazed by her beauty. She ex- familiar figure of Lucien but this time cused herself in the most charming my luck was out. manner and as I made to move out of I had to think fast and after one furi- her way she tried to enter the lavatory. ous minute I decided to try a gamble The door was locked. A look of annoy- and so got out and strolled across to the ance swept over her face and turning to other train. I found a third-class car- me she asked a completely incompre- riage, climbed in and found myself in a hensible question. I imagined she simply palatial carriage rather after the probably wanted to know whether it style of our saloon coaches but much was occupied or actually out of order. more luxurious. The seating was in Would that the ground could have groups of four with a table to each sec- swallowed me. I didn’t know what to tion on which was a lamp with a pretty, say neither did I really understand her rose-coloured shade. It all seemed

14 The Tangmere Logbook highly improbable and what made it Searchingly I scanned all the pas- even more strange was that I was alone sengers before me but he was not there in the coach, not another soul. I studied so I lagged as much as I could on the the window for some sign of Lucien but way to the barrier in the hope that he with no success. I couldn’t help feeling would come dashing by. All in vain; there was some horrible mistake and there was no sign of Lucien on the train. decided to get out and endeavour to With the rest of the crowd I dazedly investigate the situation. gave up my tickets at the barrier and Just as I was descending a uni- still in the swim moved in the “Aus- formed steward started climbing on gang” direction and soon found myself board and throwing caution to the in the main entrance hall where the winds, relying on the dusk to conceal timetables were to be found. my identity, I harshly enquired Hurriedly I examined those going “Koblenz?” at which he looked up west toward the Belgian frontier and enquiringly and asked “Wo?” Rather found that there were 6 am and 9 am more shaken and in a weak voice I reit- trains to Mayen. I made a mental note erated “Koblenz?” and this time I was of both times without hatching any rewarded by a “Ja, ja!” and reassured I definite plan and then in the same va- hurried back to my original corner seat. cant state of mind I drifted out in the After another long delay the train black, icy world. It really was cold out- eventually set out and almost immedi- side but as my eyes became adapted to ately the same steward walked through the darkness it became less formidable examining tickets, doing the blackout of and indeed proved to be a clear starlit the window by well-made, thick cur- night but colder than ever. taining and switching on the rose- Without the support of Lucien I felt coloured lamps. The effect was amaz- strangely lost. The whole trip had been ing. An air of prosperity swept the planned as a combined effort and be- coach and if it had not been for the cause he had already done this part of it ominous notes regarding blackout of- so successfully I had more or less left fences it would almost have seemed as arrangements to him and had not both- though peace had come again. It was a ered myself overmuch about emergen- long journey but quite the most un- cies such as the present one. Now the eventful. Occasionally the steward in only advice I could recollect was “Don’t his black uniform would stride past and hang around the station at night” — towards the end the odd passenger did “Don’t lurk in the town because of air share the coach with me, but except for raids.” On such a night the latter these faint intrusions I was left to my seemed very probable indeed. As I thoughts. hadn’t the slightest idea where the city These were mostly about Lucien was in relation to the a station and in whom I hoped I should meet at the blackout it was impossible to sur- Koblenz for I did not enjoy the thought mise, I turned hopefully to the right of passing a cold winter's night on my and trusted that it would take me to the own. However, I realised how tricky country. that last change of trains had been and Never was I more guided in my how lucky I was to have seen that sign- choice for in next to no time the road post. Hence, at 9 pm when the train swept across the railway and I was in pulled into a main station which the country. My only fear now was to proved to carry the sign of Koblenz, it get off the road and find some shelter was a very nervous and anxious es- before the curfew which I suspected capee who descended. was at 10 pm or possibly 11 pm. Once

Autumn 2015 15 again the road turned and now it pre- way through ice-packed banks and be- sented one of the more inspiring as- side it in company was the railway and pects of the Rhine valley for there on then the road — all within a couple of the left gurgled the Rhine as it made its hundred yards. The region seemed full

The west bank of the Rhine near Koblenz, pictured in the 1930s. of orchards and immediately on my and despite my last unpleasant experi- right were the steep slopes of the valley ence, after a hasty check round for which appeared to offer no shelter at passers-by, I crept under the fence and all. Snow was everywhere but people once again onto the railway. were few except the odd couples I occa- First of all I tried one or two box sionally overtook and sometimes the wagons but could not force open the whispers from the shadows would ter- doors and so I stumbled across my old rify me. pal the brake house attached to a box After about one hour’s brisk walk- wagon. I had taken shelter in one of ing I felt I was safely away from the these on my adventure with Fenton. town and unless I intended to perish of This time it was a rather super cabin cold I must find shelter. Hardened as I with a little seat perched high in the was to the frost I found this actual ex- observation tower so that one could see perience much more arduous than I all that went on. Thankfully I climbed had expected. Imagine my delight up to the cabin, fastened the door se- when suddenly the railway on the left curely and sat back to contemplate my broadened out into a series of sidings position. Inside the van it was by no and gave place to a host of deserted means warm but one was out of the icy goods wagons. Here, I felt, was an old wind and some of the heat of my body friend indeed; something sympathetic raised the temperature a few degrees,

16 The Tangmere Logbook but it was still well below the freezing to reach the border until evening, so I level. remained in the cabin until about 7.30. I treated myself to a couple of Hor- It was still quite dark, passers-by on the licks tablets not that I was yet hungry, road were few although the occasional and tried to make myself as comfort- cycle lamp would flicker by. I waited able as possible in my high perch. The until all was clear and then with practi- iron brake wheel served as a head rest cally numb arms and feet I crept gin- as I leaned forward from my seat much gerly down from the cabin. Snow was the same as one might from the chair the only means of washing so I pro- onto the table. With my head pillowed ceeded to rub my face with some and in my arms I prayed and prayed. First wiped it dry with my handkerchief and of all I thanked God for allowing me to then combed my hair. Fortunately accomplish this first leg and then I there was no growth of beard so my asked that I might be given the strength razorless state did not worry me. Care- to finish my journey, the force to com- fully I brushed down my coat although bat this demoralising coldness and in the darkness this was none too easy guidance for my steps on the morrow. and then after a final check round I That prayer did me the world of good. whipped under the fence and back on I no longer felt alone and uncared for in the main road, this time heading back this miserable seclusion. into Koblenz. Sleep was impossible with such So it happened at about 8.40 am on temperatures; sometimes I managed to Friday, 23rd January, I entered the por- doze fitfully and then wake with a start, tals of the station at Koblenz with very look at my luminous watch and find mixed feelings. My faint hopes of re- that only five minutes had elapsed uniting with the missing Lucien had since my last scrutiny. I dare not stamp vanished and I was beginning to feel a or beat my arms for fear of noise and little at sea without his example, but at the only means of combating the cold the same time on considering the suc- was to hug myself and then flex every cess of the first day I could not repress a muscle till I became one quivering, surge of confidence at the way the first shivering mass but it did seem to help. 400 km had been crossed. This I did regularly at half-hour inter- Thus with a rather bolder voice, af- vals and the remainder of the time I ter noting the train time and platform, I spent trying to sleep or whispering to marched up to the ticket window and myself. The latter was a great compan- putting down a further 5 RM de- ion in my loneliness. I talked and manded simply, “Mayen”. Like clock- talked to myself, words of encourage- work back came the ticket, and I turned ment, thoughts of ambition, home and once again towards the street to spend what it would mean. Just the phrase the last few minutes in the safety of the which I so used to reiterate, “Jimmy, town. What a shock I received, and Mac, you've got to do it, got to!” felt a how difficult it was to control my feel- great consolation. That and my fre- ings, for there, face to face, looking as quent pleas to the Divine: “God, please calm as ever, was Lucien. To this day I help me, please do!” were my more fre- never realised how he managed it, but quent messages. it was sufficient to see him once again. So passed the night, a nightmare Trying to camouflage my feelings I which I never wish to again experience. sauntered out of the station, turned left, I decided to ignore the first train of the and in a couple of moments was joined morning as it was still much too black by Lucien. He was much too careful to at 6 am. And in any case I did not wish say more than a couple of words which

Autumn 2015 17 did nothing to explain his reappear- hours unmolested. ance, but did much to reassure me in At the end of that time I started to our possibilities of success. Looking examine the stations apprehensively for over his shoulder, I was horrified to fear of overshooting my objective and observe a reason for his brevity for I subsequent scenes with the stationmas- noticed a male who had been regarding ter. At this stage I began to notice the me in the booking office somewhat futility of the railway maps provided in suspiciously had also left the station each carriage for none of the minor sta- and was coming in our direction. It tions were marked or named. How- was too much. I turned on my heel and ever, by roughly estimating distances, I left Lucien. judged the approach of Mayen to be Except for a brief glimpse of him on imminent, and to be sure, as the train the platform awaiting the train, that pulled up at the next stop, there, staring was destined to be our last meeting. It me in the face was the notice “Mayen was not until three years later when a Ost”. Hurriedly I left the train and friend showed me some recent photos lounging in the subway to catch sight of taken at IX-C that with an exclamation Lucien and formate on him. But of of grief I noticed Lucien and realised Lucien there was no sign. In a panic I that, after all, his glorious escape, for it proceeded on my own, gave up my really was all his, had failed and that ticket which the collector examined, only the dim English companion had and I was sure he bestowed upon me benefitted. However, to continue, it the most critical gaze, all of which was only necessary to fill in a few min- tended to precipitate my exit. utes before train time and at zero hour I Suddenly, a disturbing thought be- joined the crowd on the platform and gan gnawing its way into my mind. realised once again the train was late. Had I been mistaken? Was it conceiv- So again I had to take up a solitary able that there were two stations at position and with my resigned expres- Mayen? Feverishly I sought out the sion await the train. My reverie was notice boards and was horrified to find soon rudely disturbed by a dirty, old that there was a gap of over two hours German who came trundling up and to the next stage, Gerolstein, but worse put some incomprehensible question to still, there appeared to be a very regular which I retorted with an interrogative service to Mayen. It only needed the expression, “Ach was?” And this little confirmation of an inch-to-mile map of comedy was repeated three times. On the area, thoughtfully displayed in the the fourth repetition I decided on im- lobby and liberally marked with local mediate action and snapped “Verstehe features, to make me realise how wrong nicht”, turned on my heel and walked I had been and this truly would spell away. In the typical apathetic manner complete separation from Lucien. prevalent amongst all the German civil- What could I do? Dash back to the plat- ians, he appeared to pay little attention form and endeavour to board the train? to my behaviour and pottered off. This I felt would attract too much at- Soon after, thank Heavens, the train tention, and in addition, by this time came puffing in and thankfully I en- the train would surely have gone. Sec- tered a compartment, heil-ed Hitler and ondly I debated whether or not to catch took a corner seat. Soon after a ticket the next train to Mayen Hauptbahnhof inspector came along and following the and endeavour to meet up with Lucien example of my companions I tendered or should I endeavour to walk to the my ticket. All was in order and I was other station. The latter I rejected for allowed to continue for the next 1½ fear lest I should become lost in the

18 The Tangmere Logbook town and I was not at all sure about the my numbed body, for by this time, even right name to apply to the station — though it was dry, I was suffering ago- whether “Hauptbahnhof” was correct nies with my frozen body. So passed or not. almost an hour, at the end of which I Eventually I decided on a third sucked a couple of Horlicks tablets in course and in all independence, resign- an effort to stimulate the actions of my ing myself to my fate, decided to leave flesh, combed my hair and tidied my- the station and only return in time for self, and, as cautiously as possible, de- the next train to Gerolstein. With a last scended to the road and retraced my quick look at the map, I resolutely steps to the station. marched to the door and strode down Once more back in front of the sta- the slope into the local village of Ost- tion I was appalled to notice that the Mayen. Although all the above actions gang of youthful Hitlerites had by no take·a certain time to relate, in point of means diminished and as I approached fact the various alternatives flashed they regarded me with ill-concealed through the mind in a matter of sec- curiosity. For a moment I hesitated, onds. Even the examination of the panic-stricken, and then took the one timetables and maps had to be done in possible step — a continuation of the a most off-hand and casual manner. I bluff. Without bothering to cast an eye felt that my clothes, combined with an at the map or even at the timetable, I intent survey of the map and general made a very firm move to the booking indecision and hesitation would excite window, threw down a 5 RM piece and far too much suspicion in the various demanded in a growling voice “Gerol- officials and especially the two or three stein”. The youthful assistant on the Hitler Youths who appeared to be other side of the window turned to hanging about. But as I strode away obey and with relief I seemed to feel through the village into the country I that the suspicious and antagonistic air had ample time to cogitate about my of the Hitler Youth who had posted rash actions and consider what implica- himself in the office as I made towards tions they provided. How I kicked my- it had in no way increased, but had self for descending at that damned sta- rather given way to a look of surprise. tion. As soon as the ticket and change were After about 30 minutes’ quick walk- presented, I seized them without hesita- ing during which time I had carefully tion and speedily made my way to the noted all the landmarks to ensure a safe correct platform. and rapid return to the station, I was Fortunately on this occasion the well out into the beauties of the snow- train was not unduly late and ten min- covered country, very undulating with utes later I was safely embarked in a picturesque woods on either side. As I large open carriage, with seats for two, felt the need for a rest and the desire to rather like a tram, and filled with very avoid more than the minimum possible rural types who, I felt sure, would not contact, I shot up a turning and was inconvenience me. So we continued for soon safely ensconced in a thick wood. something like an hour. Stops were There, hidden in the snow, safe from very, very frequent with an ever-ready human eye, I was able to give way to supply of German hausfrauen, com- my feelings, alternately raving against plete with their bags of vegetables and my imbecility and then praying in a market shopping. On the whole they rather hysterical manner to God to pre- seemed a miserable and unhappy lot, serve me and give me the courage to more or less oblivious to their sur- forget this perishing cold and force on roundings.

Autumn 2015 19 Shortly after my embarkation at But a strange sight greeted my eyes. Mayen Ost I realised my first great The station was crowded, people bus- blow — I had not paid sufficient atten- tling all over the place, flags bedecking tion to the map with the result that I the platform and nurses and Red Cross had not noticed that this line bypassed officials in abundance — a cheering, Mayen Hauptbahnhof, hence gone was happy throng! my last hope of joining the knowing In amazement I gazed at the train Lucien. I was absolutely on my own. drawn up at the other platform and the After something like three-quarters sight of it, coupled with the various of the journey had been accomplished I notices and banners, brought the solu- realised my second error. On no ac- tion. It was a hospital train, filled with count, I had been warned, was I to dis- German war heroes straight from the mount at Gerolstein. I was supposed to Russian front. I remember how eagerly jump off at the station before, bypass we used to count the numerous car- Gerolstein and re-train at the first coun- riages as they thundered past IX-C in try stop. All very well in theory but their evacuation duties. Without doubt how the devil was I to know at which the happy coincidental arrival of the station to dismount? two trains saved my day. Mingling At the next stop, whilst passengers with the crowds, I made for the exit, were leaving, I cautiously changed gave up my ticket in the most innocent places to station myself near the one manner and without daring to look and only map in the carriage, but alas, over my shoulder, made for the open rather as I had suspected, the interme- country to the west and continued diary stations were not marked and I walking until not a person was in sight. had no idea whatsoever of the distance After a mile or so I stopped to take to Gerolstein. I wondered whether I stock of my position. By this time I was should get off at the next station but well out of sight of the railway which reflected that it was already 3 pm and if lay to my right so I felt the only thing to I wanted to cross the Belgian frontier do would be to continue the lonely, that night I could not afford to waste snow-covered road to the west and too much time on bypassing Gerolstein. with a prayer that my steps might be Whilst I was still puzzling out the guided to the nearest station, off I set. position we stopped again and I re- In the snow it was rather hard going; strained the impulse to jump out, then the country was quite hilly and com- and there. As I could glean nothing paratively unpopulated. In any case, a from the name of the station I deter- very prompt Heil Hitler soon diverted mined to do just one more stop and suspicion. All went smoothly until in then off at the next village — surely it the distance, away on a hill opposite a must be near enough to Gerolstein. So huge farm, I espied a large crowd. when the brakes were applied for the Once again I decided on a bold front next stop my mind was quite made up. and as I approached the odd 30 or so But this was no village — rather, a large children and farm folk, I saw they were town — and it dawned on me that I busily disporting themselves on the was once again too late. A blatant large, frozen duck-pond. The children I signpost viciously indicated that this ignored, the odd farmer chatting on the indeed was Gerolstein. There was road I saluted in a sufficiently confident nothing to do but disembark, so reluc- manner and before I realised it, the tantly, with a goodly crowd of passen- danger was passed. gers, I climbed down, thoughts of the Soon, as the road wound down the waiting Gestapo invading my mind. hill, the most welcome sight of the rail-

20 The Tangmere Logbook way come into view and as I went over barking dogs came into view on the far the level crossing and through a small side. Thus I was well and truly penned village there was the most obliging in, well visible in the snow with only a poster announcing that the station was few sparse trees around. As a train just 1 km further down the single line. steamed into the station and disgorged Through the village down to the iso- its passengers I went flat and watched lated station I walked and there, in the odd passengers only 100 yards front of the station, was the timetable away, trooping to the village. Fortu- which to my disgust indicated that I nately, night was near and my presence had missed the 4.09 train to St Vith by was soon well hidden, but there still something like 30 minutes. The next remained another 2½ hours of solid was 8.09 pm. freezing agony before I could go once What to do? Should I risk a journey again into action. by night and then a rash dash across the Sleep was right out of the question frontier the same night? It was a most so followed another period of hugging, tempting thought for by this time shivering and shuddering, liberally in- thoughts of food and warmth were be- terspersed with incoherent ramblings to coming ever more provocative to my myself and prayers to God to deliver hungry, frozen body. On the other me. Just before 8 pm, for the first time hand should I be sensible, lie up here since my break, my bowels overcame for the night, proceed by morning and the anxiety of my nerves and I was able have all tomorrow to reconnoitre my to relieve myself, but at considerable position? In the end I gave in to im- cost in the anguish of the frost. pulse and decided to catch the 8 o'clock Promptly at 8 pm I arranged myself train. To avoid the village I continued as best I could, brushed off all the snow on the road past the station, but to my and made my way to the station. This consternation it soon petered out and I time I was really tensed. This was the was left with nothing but a huge open lap I had been waiting for, the last field. Hurriedly I reversed my steps stretch of railway. Tomorrow, if God and walked smartly by the station in guided me, I would be eating and the gathering gloom. As I did so a drinking in some Belgian farmhouse. young girl with a huge basket came out “Please God give me the strength! and followed behind me en route to the Please God.” That was the only way I village. The last thing I wanted to do could urge myself forward. was to parade in the village again. I I opened the door into the station infinitely preferred the apparently thick and found directly opposite a little wood which stretched the length of the window let into the lamp-lit office. A road. grey-haired old man pushed up the Suddenly bending down I gave my window and rather timidly I said “St entire attention to my shoelace and con- Vith”, recalling at the last moment that tinued to do so until the fraulein had I was not at all sure of the pronuncia- passed by and a bend in the road suc- tion, but yet I clung to that advised — cessfully hid her from view. Then only “San Veet”. The old man looked did I climb the bank and plunge into blankly back and said “Ach was?” the wood. Rather more loudly I reiterated “San As I pressed forward into this Veet” and again to my consternation he wooded area it soon became apparent did not react but grunted again “Was?” that it was not so thick as I thought. In For a third time, this occasion bringing fact, before I was out of sight of the in a slight stutter, pronouncing the “t” road, farm buildings, an orchard and in “Saint” and saying the “v” a little

Autumn 2015 21 more like an “f”, I said “Sant F-F-Feet”. the whole carriage. Once again the old A beam of comprehension spread fear of when to descend alarmed me. I across his face. He nodded vigorously, had no map this time and in any case “Ja, Ja, St Vith”, went into the corner, all the windows were blacked out. wrote out my ticket, gave me change Surely, I began to fret: it must be time to and slammed down the window. I disembark. wiped the sweat from my brow. Then, to make matters worse, at the Obviously I could not remain stand- next stop the couple descended and I ing in the lobby under his gaze so once was left alone. But no, not exactly again I took the risk and seeing a wait- alone, for, just as they were at the end ing room on the left I firmly grasped of the carriage, I noticed that the the knob and pushed the door open. It woman had left her handbag on the was perfect: not a soul was in sight and seat. Hurriedly I stifled some inarticu- moreover, the remnants of a small fire late cry to attract her attention. That were still burning. In addition, there would have involved me in too many were two exits from the room but by messages of thanks. Instead, I let them this time I was no longer feeling capa- go off without it. The train started and ble of drastic action. I just managed to then I remembered the ticket collector. drag one foot after another. Would he notice it on his walk At 8.10 the train had not arrived so I through? prepared myself to wait but when by 9 Like a rabbit before a snake I gazed pm there was no train nor any other at that bag, wondering what to do, passengers I began to wonder. How- whether to throw it out of the window, ever, I decided to see it out, resolved to hide it or leave it where it was. Further wait until the silly old stationmaster action was taken out of my hands. I who sold tickets late at night to obvious saw the door begin to open and imme- foreigners in RAF clothing made the diately feigned a doze and watched the first movement. At 9.15 I saw him collector as he walked through. Sure move out onto the platform with his enough he espied it and turning to me lantern. Sure enough I heard the whis- asked, I presume, whether it was mine. tle of the train, but waited until it had I woke from my doze, took one look at pulled up before, as the sole passenger, the article, snorted an indignant “Nein” I left the solitude of the waiting room and promptly turned my back and and quickly climbed into a fairly dozed off again. Without more ado he crowded open carriage without the ne- picked it up, placed it under his elbow cessity of speaking another word to the and sauntered off up the train. gullible old man. — To be continued As I remarked, the carriage was quite packed but I had a seat to myself facing a German couple. After each stop a male ticket conductor, about 30 Before his death in a flying accident in 1948, years old, would walk down the train Mac McCairns wrote a 200-page account of his and examine the tickets of the newly crash-landing and capture by the enemy July arrived. My inspection went without a 1941, his imprisonment in Germany, his escape attempts and his clandestine journey across hitch but I noticed with alarm that the Europe to Gibraltar with the help of the Comet further west we went a correspondingly organisation. We thank his son Chris for giving low figure of new passengers were us a copy of this memoir, which has never before picked up whilst others got off in in- been published. Further extracts will appear in creasing numbers. By 10 pm only the future editions of The Tangmere Logbook. couple opposite and myself were left in —Ed.

22 The Tangmere Logbook

MiG Alley F-86s and MiG-15s in Jet-to-Jet Air Combat

Matt Wright

Sixty-five years ago this summer, on 25 June 1950, the North Korean People’s Army (NKPA) invaded South Korea, with the aim of unifying Korea under Communism. Ko- rea had been divided since the Japanese withdrawal at the end of World War 2, the USSR occupying the area north of the 38th parallel and the US to the south. The Ameri- cans had removed their last troops from Korea in 1949 and the South Korean military forces were weak and disorganised, which allowed the NKPA to make rapid progress south of the 38th parallel. The republican government fled Seoul and the following day America offered military aid — including air and sea support — to South Korea. Just

Autumn 2015 23 three days after the initial invasion, on 28 June, North Korean troops entered Seoul. The United Nations Security Council denounced the invasion and a force under UN Command (UNC), consisting mainly of Americans (some 90%) and their allies, was sent to the theatre to counter the incursion. Initially the fighter arm of the Allies’ air forces consisted of WW2-era piston-engined fighters, such as the Mustang and Corsair, as well as first-generation straight-winged jets including the Shooting Star and the Panther. The Korean People’s Air Force (KPAF) initially used Ilyushin IL-10 ground attack air- craft and piston-engined Soviet Yak-9P and Lavochkin La-9 fighters. By mid-July, more than 100 of the KPAF’s initial strength of 132 aircraft had been de- stroyed and what flyable aircraft remained were withdrawn to the People’s Republic of China. The Allies were then able to attack tactical and strategic targets in occupied South Korea and to range into North Korean airspace virtually unopposed, using their Japan-based USAF B-29 bombers and locally based and carrier-borne fighter-bombers. The US and their Allies on the ground pushed north and routed the KPA, regaining the 38th parallel and advancing towards the Manchurian border, marked by the Yalu River. China, under Chairman Mao Zedong, had been complicit in helping the North Kore- ans to launch their initial attack, supplying arms to them, but when the UN forces ad- vanced into North Korea he became concerned about the Americans reaching the Yalu River and possibly crossing it to invade China. He enlisted Stalin’s support to supply military equipment and ammunition to the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army (CPVA). Earlier he had persuaded the Soviets to supply MiG-15s to his air force and the KPAF, together with flying instructors and other logistic support. But Stalin would not commit his forces to the conflict at this stage nor would he allow his air force to fly beyond Chi- nese airspace. China entered the Korean War on 8th October 1950 and by the end of the month the first of some 200,000 Chinese troops had entered North Korea. The first reported sighting of MiG-15s in the Korean War was on 1st November 1950 when four P-51 Mustangs were flying along the Yalu River and several swept-wing jet aircraft appeared. The US pilots wisely decided to return to base. As the UN forces continued to attack targets in North Korea, the Mig-15s showed that the bombers, par- ticularly the B-29 Superfortresses, could no longer be adequately protected by escorting fighters, as the MiGs were able to outrun them with their superior speed and inflict heavy casualties on the bombers.

This sent shock waves back to the US — the UN forces were in danger of losing their air superiority to the Communists. The USAF Chief of Staff offered two wings (three squadrons each) of new fighters to the Far East Air Force commanders, one of F-86A Sabres, and the other of straight-winged F-84E Thunderjets. These were hastily shipped to Japan in December 1950, and by the middle of the month 32 Sabres were based at

24 The Tangmere Logbook Kimpo AB, to the west of Seoul (now Kimpo International Airport). At the same time the Soviet MiG force based in Manchuria was strengthened by the posting of some of the premier MiG units to the region. By late December 1950, the Sabres and MiGs were ranged along the corridor to the south of the Yalu, which became known as MiG Alley. The first MiG-15 shot down by a Sabre was on 17th December, although on 9th November a carrier-borne Grumman F9F Panther brought down the first MiG-15 in the Korean War. There was a dogfight be- tween eight Sabres and 15 MiGs on 22nd December, with the Americans claiming six of the enemy shot down and no Sabres lost. The first Sabre lost in combat went down on the day before when a Mig-15, flown by Captain Nikolay Yefremovich, shot down Cap- tain Lawrence Bach; however, the Americans claimed that their aircraft was lost to anti- aircraft fire. There followed a period when both sides evaluated the aerial combat techniques of the other. The MiG-15’s primary role was to destroy the B-29 bombers and ground at- tack fighters, but they now had to cope with the American Sabres which were flying combat air patrols. The Americans were forbidden from flying over Chinese territory by the UNC, so they sought to engage the MiGs as close to the border as possible. The Sabre carried more fuel than the MiG-15, but they had to fly 300 miles from their bases near Seoul, using their drop tanks, before they reached MiG Alley. They set up patrols along the Yalu River which marked the border between China and North Korea. The Communists were alerted to the approach of the Sabres by their ground radars and they would scramble their MiGs from their bases in south China, with the aim of climbing to 50,000 ft — a height that the F86A could not reach — called “on the perch”, and they could then dictate the timing of the action.

The Americans, who used pairs of aircraft (leaders and wingmen) in finger-four for- mation, made up of several units stepped at various levels to engage the enemy. Often the MiG pilots, who also used units of four, would wait until the Americans were run- ning short of fuel before they attacked, and this would consist of a high-speed diving attack into the American formation, followed by a turn to Chinese airspace and safety. The Americans noticed that the leaders often flew aircraft that had a red-painted nose and believed that these were flown by Russian pilots. They called them “honchos”, a Japanese term for bosses. They were probably instructors, who would typically have been veterans from WW2. On occasions the Communists would engage in combat and a dogfight would result. The Americans shot down several MiGs during this phase as

Autumn 2015 25 they were up against inexperienced Chinese and North Korean pilots. However the Communists could not afford to lose so many of their latest Russian aircraft and pro- gressively more Russian pilots were embedded in the MiG force. Their MiGs carried Chinese or North Korean markings rather than the Soviet star. The Soviets always denied that Russian pilots were flying MiGs over North Korea because Stalin did not want to enter the Korean War directly as he feared that this would bring the Americans into a bigger war. The Russian pilots wore North Korean uniforms or civvies and were briefed to only speak Chinese or North Korean over the radio. However, in combat conditions, the Americans picked up Russian voices on the radio. The Russians all had pseudonyms (as call signs), and were given cards with com- mon Korean flying terms spelt out phonetically in Cyrillic characters. They were for- bidden from flying over the sea and limited to the airspace to the north of a line be- tween Pyongyang and Wosan in North Korea. The skirmishes in MiG Alley proved that MiG-15 had a better rate of climb and ceil- ing than the Sabre and was more manoeuvrable above 25,000 ft. Below this level they were slower and if they ever got into a circling dogfight at low level the Sabre would come out the winner. The Sabre was a better gun platform than the MiG, but as it was armed only with machine guns the American pilots had to get closer to their quarry to shoot them down, whereas the MiGs’ cannon allowed them to fire from further away and their shells were more destructive. The American’s radar–ranging gunsight was more efficient than the Soviet gyro gunsight which was a development of those used by Spitfires in WW2 and was prone to toppling in high G turns. Also the Americans wore G-suits from the outset, but the Russians introduced them only after the Korean War. The American pilots were more aggressive than the Communist pilots, certainly the Chinese and North Koreans. Some of the Americans threw out any equipment that they considered surplus to requirements to lighten the aircraft and get closer to the enemy. These pilots were known as the “MiG killers”. On most sorties the Americans were out- numbered by the Communists, and it was not uncommon for there to be 80 or more MiGs flying in MiG Alley against half that number of Sabres. With the Chinese entry to the war, their troops started to enter South Korea, and in early January 1951 the Americans were forced to withdraw their Sabres to Japan, prior to the Communists again occupying Seoul. The Sabres returned to North Korea in early March using a basic airfield at Suwon and then reoccupied Kimpo, their original Sabre base. During this period the Sabres were out of range of North Korea, but the Commu- nist did not capitalise on this and when the Americans reappeared they were able to immediately re-establish their air superiority. The next two years saw the ground forces facing each other along the 38th parallel. The Communists could not advance without air cover and the MiGs had failed to win this from the Sabres. In the air battle changes were afoot, as the Communists committed more MiG-15bis (an improved mark with a more powerful engine giving it an operating ceiling of 50,000 ft, air brakes that extended automatically at Mach .92, and improved aileron controls). The Americans, meanwhile, supplied more Sabres to the theatre, con- verting some of their F-80 and P-51 squadrons to the new aircraft. The F-86E was introduced in September 1951, with its all-flying tail plane. It was fol- lowed by the F-86F, powered by an uprated General Electric J47-27 engine and introduc- ing a new wing that had an extended leading edge, giving a greater wing area, which in turn gave the aircraft better manoeuvrability at height. The American “jocks” were now able to operate on equal terms with the MiG-15bis. The Communists tried to set up air- fields in North Korea that the MiGs could operate from, but these were continually at- tacked. On one occasion, Sabres strafed the MiGs on the ground at Uiji, and destroyed

26 The Tangmere Logbook at least four. The Communists withdrew their aircraft to the north of the Yalu. For the Americans, a tour of duty was set at 100 sorties, and as the more seasoned pilots left the theatre they were replaced by younger, less experienced ones. These pi- lots had been trained to rigorous standards by USAF instructors, including air combat training in the States. The Soviets had posted some of their crack units to the front line at the start of the war and they would now replace them at six-monthly intervals with less combat-experienced units. The Chinese and North Koreans, whose training and combat experience was limited, were trying to catch up. However with their superior numbers they evolved new tactics such as attacking the Sabres in a scissors movement from both sides. This meant that their skirmishes with the Sabres were uneven — at times they would put up a good fight and at others they would run for home. Towards the end of the conflict, the UNC relaxed the ruling about not infringing Chinese air space if their pilots were in hot pursuit of the enemy. When the ceasefire and truce was signed at Panmunjom on 27th July 1953, which re- sulted in a two-mile-wide demilitarised zone, the two sides were able to stand down their fighters and analyse the results. The USAF claimed that 792 MiG-15s were brought down in air combat for the loss of 78 Sabres, resulting in a loss ratio of 10:1. In addition, it claimed 118 probables and 808 damaged aircraft. However more recent research shows that the claims by both sides were overstated for propaganda reasons, and the difficulty of accurately recording losses in such a fast-moving conflict. The Soviets, who at the time denied involvement in the air battle, subsequently claimed that they lost a total of 335 MiGs. Of these, 319 were lost in combat, of which 309 were attributed to Sabres. The Chinese stated that they had lost 224 MiGs, all to Sabres. The North Kore- ans made no statement, but subsequently a defector told of a loss of over 100 MiGs. This would give a total of 633 MiGs lost to Sabres. As regards Sabre losses, it is claimed that 224 Sabres were lost during the conflict. Only 104 were lost in combat, the others being attributed to flying accidents, anti-aircraft fire, and running out of fuel. So the Sabre versus MiG loss ratio is more like 1:6, and against Soviet-piloted aircraft is 1:1.4. The Americans claimed 41 “aces” (five or more aircraft brought down) during the Korean War, of whom 40 were Sabre pilots. The highest scorer was Captain Joseph McConnell with 16 aircraft destroyed. It is of interest that some 68% of the American pilots who destroyed MiGs in Korea were 28 or over, often with WW2 experience. This did not preclude the younger, less experienced pilots, some of whom achieved “ace” status. On the Soviet side there were some 60 “aces” and their top pilot, Colonel Yev- geny Pepelyaev was credited with 22.5 victories. There were also some 6 Chinese “aces” with the highest scorer claiming 9 victories and the North Koreans had between 4 and 2 “aces” with 8 being their highest score. George Welch, the Sabre Chief Test Pi- lot, flew in the Korean War as an engineer and instructor, but he was specifically for- bidden to engage in combat. He appears to have shot down several aircraft, but as he could not claim them his victories were credited to his trainee pilots. Undoubtedly the Sabres dominated the air war over Korea, achieving air superiority in spite of having fewer aircraft deployed in the theatre than the Communists. This was the first conflict between swept-wing fighters and both sides went on to develop the next generation of aircraft, the Americans the F-100 Super Sabre and the Soviets the MiG-17. Performance-wise there was little to choose between the Sabre and the MiG-15 — they both had their strong points. However the Sabre pilots were better trained and more aggressive than their Communist counterparts, and this won the day. The MiG-15 was never operated to its full potential. Instead of being used to knock out enemy air cover and support the ground forces it ended up in a prolonged dogfight in MiG Alley, which it never won.

Autumn 2015 27 Letters, Notes, Kong base. Too, the United Kingdom considered it paramount to increase and Queries Cold War vigilance in Europe, and the United States endorsed its position. The Air War in Korea Korea was the first jet-versus-jet air As a member of the 4th Fighter Group war, and RAF interest was intense. The based at K–14, Kimpo, in Korea, I was fighter fraternity deplored the lack of one among many other British citizens RAF combat involvement. Events were who were significantly involved in the to confirm that our then front-line Korean War from the outset. The Army fighter, the Meteor, would have been and the Royal Navy were the main outmatched and outperformed by the players. The role of the Royal Air Force MiG–15.ir was limited, by comparison. The Brit- I was on the staff of the Central ish Army contingent was central in the Fighter Establishment at RAF West Commonwealth Division, and the RN Raynham in 1951, having gone there on was involved from the very beginning return from an exchange tour with the of hostilities. USAF 1st Fighter Group based at March The RN operated and maintained Air Force Base, California. The 1st light fleet aircraft carriers on a rota- Group had introduced the F–86 into the tional basis in Korean waters, in addi- US air operational inventory, and I had tion to supporting surface units. The the privilege and indeed good luck to carriers’ aircraft complement were pis- fly it from February 1949 on. The CFE ton-engine Sea Furies and Fulmars. A was the centre of RAF fighter expertise Sea Fury destroyed a MiG–15 in one and was involved in the development engagement. The RAF rotated three of tactics and equipment. It was a mini Sunderland flying-boat squadrons Nellis AFB, and the RAF Day Fighter through Iwakani from Singapore, and Leaders course was an equivalent to the these did valuable service in the mari- US Top Gun course. Members of the time role. The RAF Transport Com- Tactics Branch at CFE were anxious to mand, in conjunction with the Canadi- get first-hand information on Korean ans and Australians, provided logistical air operations, and after the RAF chief support to the Commonwealth forces. of the air staff approached him, Gen. The RAF provided air support and Hoyt S. Vandenberg, the USAF chief of medical evacuation back to the United staff, agreed to to send four CFE pilots Kingdom via Hong Kong and Singa- to observe and report on Korean air pore, a lengthy trip by any measure. operations. Wing Commander John Two RAF air observation flights op- Baldwin, a World War II ace and noted erated with the British Army to provide tactician, was the senior pilot, I was a gun spotting, reconnaissance informa- squadron leader, and flight lieutenants tion, and liaison flights. Because the US Brian Sprague and Rex Knight were the Air Force had a critical shortage of other two pilots. photo interpreters, the RAF supplied Conversion to the F–86 involved personnel and the requisite facilities in three flights with the 81st Tactical the theatre. Like the USAF, indeed like Fighter Wing at Bentwaters. I was all participants, the RAF had suffered a given two flights because I was already considerable drawdown after World experienced on the aircraft. Flying War II. United Kingdom forces, in par- hours at Bentwaters at that time were in ticular the RAF, was at full strength in short supply. Preparation before depar- Malaya due to the communist confron- ture for Korea is a story in itself. Outfit- tation and the need to defend the Hong ted with the latest RAF flying gear, we

28 The Tangmere Logbook set off via Singapore. After checking in ing from the Antung clutch of airfields with the USAF authorities in Tokyo, we just across the Yalu versus the five F–86 were taken by air transport to K–13 at squadrons, three at Kimpo and two at Suwon where we were split up and as- Suwon. signed to four different squadrons. Time does not permit a long discus- Flight Lieutenant Sprague and I went to sion on tactics; however, tactics evolved the 4th Fighter Group at Kimpo. Bald- to counter those of the MiG pilots. It win and Knight went to the 51st Fighter was suspected, but not 100 per cent Group at Suwon. I was assigned to the confirmed at the time, that the MiGs 335th Tactical Fighter Squadron and, were in the main flown by Russian pi- because of my previous F–86 back- lots. Their operations were cyclical. ground, quickly completed the very They would start simply and become useful Clobber College, the short course more aggressive as they gained experi- used to acquaint personnel new to Ko- ence. I refer here to the time frame of rea on tactics and survival training. early 1952, from February on. As a point of interest, although I was The F–86 and the MiG–15 were by any standard experienced on the F– closely matched in terms of perform- 86, I soon found out that, here, the F–86 ance. The MiG could reach a higher was flown to its limits and much closer altitude than could the F–86, thereby to the edge of the envelope than I had dictating when its pilot wished to en- experienced. When I completed Clob- gage. Communist and UN pilots both ber College, I found myself in the cock- enjoyed advantages. The MiGs were pit of an F–86, flying missions and ob- operating over their own territory and serving the air war along the Yalu enjoyed relative sanctuary across the River, arguably the best seat in the Yalu in Manchuria. They were under house. In addition, my previous ex- close radar control. The F–86 pilots, on change tour at March AFB proved in- the other hand, had no discrete radar valuable because I not only knew the control, and the Mark I eyeball, plus system, I met at least thirty people intelligence, was the only warning we whom I had known previously, mostly had on the MiG formations. The F–86 former pilots of the 1st Group. On pilots were also at maximum distance quickly graduating to element leader from their bases in South Korea. status, I was fortunate indeed to have The United Nations had control of Mike Dearmond fly my wing. He was a the seas around the battle area and handsome young second lieutenant stood a good chance of rescuing and, like many of his colleagues, fear- downed airmen if the coast could be less. You have heard him speak and reached. The MiGs did not normally mention his ordeal as a prisoner of war. operate beyond the coast. The rationale Wing Commander Baldwin went was for their pilots to avoid capture and missing on a weather reconnaissance on not be picked up by UN forces, and March 13, and to my horror it fell to me thus not reveal their identities. This has to produce the required report. Quite since been confirmed by published apart from the loss of a fine RAF officer, Russian reports on their operations in I was now in the hot seat with more to the Korean War. Some MiG pilots were do than enjoy the missions. The air op- very capable, but, in general, the F–86 erations at Kimpo and Suwon were pilots performed much better. The aimed at gaining and holding air supe- main difficulty was to get scheduled for riority to enable the fighter-bombers to a mission, such was the competition to operate unopposed. It was a very per- fly. sonal conflict, with the enemy operat- Despite the limited runway capacity

Autumn 2015 29 at Kimpo, missions were flown that performance of the MiG–15, the answer under peacetime flight safety rules to the 8-to-1 or 10-to-1 ratio that was would have limited the numbers con- claimed was inescapable: better training siderably. Dead-stick landings by F– and more aggressive pilots. The differ- 86s with no remaining fuel were ac- ence was the human element. Had the commodated. The g-suit and the URC4 MiGs been more aggressive, the results radio were invaluable; pilots who were could well have been different. shot down could talk to their rescue — Air Vice Marshal W. H. “Paddy” forces while still in their parachute and Harbison, CB CBE AFC on the ground. Some forty-two RAF pilots flew with the USAF, and thirty- Reprinted from the public-domain proceedings of the USAF Historical Foundation symposium two flew with No. 77 Royal Australian held in May 2002 at Andrews AFB, entitled Air Force Squadron. No. 77 was “Coalition Air Warfare in the Korean War, equipped with Meteors and operated in 1950-1953”, edited by Jacob Neufeld and George the ground-attack role from Kimpo. M. Watson, Jr. —Ed. The RAF lost ten pilots, four with the USAF and six with No. 77 Squad- ron. The Royal Navy lost thirty-four. Answer to Photo Quiz, Summer 2015 The Sunderland flying-boat squadrons lost eighteen in weather-related acci- Our photo was taken in the newly- dents. (These figures are approximate.) dedicated control tower at New York The CFE report on the F–86 versus the International Airport, aka Idlewild and MiG–15 became available under the later JFK, in September 1952. From thirty-year rule and, given that it was 1957, the runways were reconfigured produced some fifty years ago, has and the unique crossed-X pattern seen proved to be remarkably accurate. My in the photo (and the 1951 landing chart conclusion was that, given the numeri- on our back cover) was eliminated. cal advantage and the superior altitude

Photo Quiz: What is this aeroplane, and why (on at least two counts) was it notable?

30 The Tangmere Logbook

A special offer price of £15 is still available to customers calling in at our shop, or £20 by mail including P&P.

A perfect gift!

Photo Credits Front cover and page 25: Official USAF photos. Pages 1, 4: Parnaby Collection, Tang- mere Military Aviation Museum. Pages 12, 16, 24, 30: Public domain. Back cover: U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey.

Autumn 2015 31